


Ink

by wunderxfunk



Series: Ink [1]
Category: Glee
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-01
Updated: 2014-10-01
Packaged: 2018-02-19 11:00:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,587
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2385947
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wunderxfunk/pseuds/wunderxfunk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Meet cute AU: Blaine is a florist and Kurt is a tattoo artist from the shop next door</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ink

Blaine has never been much of a tattoo person. He makes a lot of bad decisions—the time in high school that he serenaded a crush in front of an entire audience in an outlet store. A mismatched sweater vest here or there. And Six Flags… just, no. The idea of having one of those moments of poor judgment embedded in his skin, visible for everyone, forever? He’d rather endure another hot summer singing and dancing in full costume next to Bugs Bunny. At least that brand of humiliation would have an end to it.

 But then the tattoo parlor opened next door.

At first, Blaine thought it would be bad for business. The types of people who want to order a bouquet for their grandmother aren’t generally the ones who are looking to get a tramp stamp in the middle of the day.

Well, most of the time… he’s been proven wrong on this theory.

But it turns out that all of his fears were unnecessary, and that the shop owner is actually a great neighbor. He keeps his storefront tidy, and Blaine has seen him shoo away patrons who are obviously drunk, or too young. Despite all of Blaine’s initial perceptions of tattoo artists (which have very little basis in actual experience) this guy is really upstanding.

Admittedly, this outlook might be a little colored by the fact that the guy is also gorgeous.

Blaine has sort of embraced being single. During his early twenties, he used to fret about not having a boyfriend, but countless terrible blind dates and short-lived relationships have taught him that there are more important things to worry about. Like, his business, for example. The flower shop is his second home. Blaine loves what he does—loves helping people, and creating something beautiful. Spreading joy. He’s good at it, and it easily occupies enough space in his life that he doesn’t get that feeling of loneliness anymore unless he’s stuck at home on a Friday night with Netflix, a bottle of wine, and no one to share it with. Even then, returning to work always helps.

But the tattoo guy…

Every morning, Blaine opens his store at seven, and spends a good two hours mindlessly completing chores because he’s  _waiting._  At nine, he finds an excuse to be near the window just so he can watch this guy arrive. And the man never disappoints. He’s always dressed so  _nicely—_ a perfect mixture of edgy and classy—with hair styled to the heavens. Sometimes, Blaine spots a hint of eyeliner, and he’s never known that was a thing for him, but it is. When the guy wears short sleeves, Blaine can see the swirling patterns up his arms, a mixture of blacks and blues and purples, and some writing that he can’t make out.

Blaine watches the man dig through his pockets for keys, looking too striking to be allowed to stand in the middle of the sidewalk in broad daylight, where other ordinary people have to stand.

And then the guy goes inside, and Blaine spends another hour fantasizing about his life. He makes up names for him, but they never sound right, or good enough. Blaine wonders about where he lives, what he does in his free time, until a customer inevitably comes in and he forgets about it until the next day, when his neighbor appears again.

One morning, Blaine is rearranging the window display, when his assistant Emily catches him staring.

“Are you watching for Kurt?” she asks, after hanging up the phone and making a note in the order registry.

Blaine pulls his eyes away from the window, and pretends that he had been organizing azaleas. Then her words register and he pauses. “Who’s Kurt?”

“The guy who owns the tattoo parlor next door.” Emily taps her pen on the counter, looking equal parts exasperated and amused. “The one you’re obsessed with. You think I don’t notice the way you get all perky when you see him? Seriously, you’re like one of those wind-up toys.”

“His name is Kurt?” Blaine looks back to the window, where the street is empty.  _Kurt._ He hadn’t thought of that one.

“Yeah, you haven’t talked to him? He came in a few weeks ago with some of our mail he got by accident, and we chatted.” She clicks the pen—a habit of hers. “He’s really friendly,” she adds, with emphasis.

“Is that so,” Blaine says vaguely, feigning apathy.

“And single. And, I’d wager, of your… persuasion.” More pen clicking. Blaine wants to tell her to stop, but he’s busy attempting to hide the blush that’s sprung up across his neck and cheeks. He grabs the broom that’s leaning against the shelves beside him and begins sweeping the clean floor.

Emily laughs. “I’m just saying. You  _could_ go talk to him instead of spying on him all the time.”

And then she mercifully drops it at that and picks up the clipboard from the counter, heading to the back to do inventory.

_Kurt._

***

The interior of the tattoo parlor is more brightly lit than Blaine expected, the floors a light shade of hardwood and the walls painted white. It looks more like a salon, or an art studio—potted plants instead of neon signs. Lots of natural lighting. It’s almost as cheery as his own shop.

He approaches the desk, where a girl with a nose piercing and a nametag that reads “Dani” is typing at a computer.

“Hi,” Blaine greets her brightly, and he realizes he must look like he’s wandered in from some faraway land, in his bowtie and colorful shirt, holding a single flower—a pink, cymbidium orchid that he’d carefully selected. It’s one of Blaine’s favorite types, wide petals streaked warm shades that remind him of a sunset. Dani looks him up and down, a little dubiously, with one shaped eyebrow raised. But then she smiles.

“Can I help you?”

“Um…” Blaine frowns. “I was looking for Kurt, actually?”

She flashes him a look that almost seems devious. “ _Oh_. In  _that_ case, right this way.”

She gets up and Blaine stands there for a second before he suddenly realizes he should probably follow. She leads him into a hallway, exposed brick walls lined with artistic, black and white photos. Blaine begins to get this feeling that is all-at-once fluttery and sinking. He’s not sure how he hadn’t realized that this plan was dumb before, but now it’s hitting him, and he has half a mind to turn on his heels and leave.

Dani pulls back a curtain, and there’s a small room with a counter and chair. Kurt ( _Kurt_ ) is standing with his back to them, leaning over a sink and cleaning what appear to be empty tubes of ink. Blaine roots himself to the spot when the man turns around. Kurt is wearing a tight black waistcoat over a striped shirt and red leather pants. The entire ensemble is hugging every inch of him, and the effect is fantastic.

…And he’s also staring expectantly at Blaine.

“Someone to see you,” Dani intones, and she  _winks_  before retreating.

Blaine just stands there and watches the other man begin to dry his hands. From here, he can read the tattoo on Kurt’s forearm.  _Take these broken wings and learn to fly._  Huh.

“Hi!” Kurt says. His voice is clear and high, surprisingly cheerful. He drops the towel on the counter and points to the orchid in Blaine’s hand. “That’s beautiful.”

Blaine snaps out of whatever daze he’s in, remembering his manners and why he’s there. “Hi,” he says, too breathy. “I’m Blaine. This is, um…” He holds out the flower, and Kurt steps closer and takes it from him before he can get much more of an explanation out.

“Don’t get a lot of guys in here with flowers,” Kurt says, studying the orchid, holding the stem with his fingertips. Blaine realizes that he has blue eyes. He’d always been too far away to notice.

“Do you know where you want it? Forewarning, I don’t usually do the ass.” Kurt glances up at Blaine one more time, and then his gaze pours a little further downwards, and he smirks. “But I guess I can make an exception, if you insist.”

 _What_? Blaine squints for a second, unsure what is going on, until realization hits him.

“ _Oh!_ No. I don’t want a tattoo. Not that I’m opposed to them. Well, I’m a little opposed to getting one  _myself_ , but that’s kind of a long story, not a matter of principle…” He’s babbling, and Kurt is beginning to look confused. So he halts himself and tries again.

“I’m Blaine. From next door,” he manages, rubbing the back of his neck. “We haven’t met yet, and I wanted to formally introduce myself. The flower is for you.”

“For me?” Kurt looks down at the orchid again. “That’s so sweet. Wait, so you’re the—okay. Now this is making sense.” He laughs, and it’s like chords of beautiful music. “So you came here just to give me this?”

“Sort of,” Blaine admits, sheepish. “It’s kind of stupid, I know.”

“Not at all.” Kurt waves one hand. “It’s nice. Neighborly.” He brushes one of the pink petals with his fingers, and Blaine watches him close his eyes and bring the flower to his nose, inhaling.

And then Kurt sneezes, so violently that it startles them both. He buries his nose in his elbow before he sneezes twice more.

“Oh god,” he says, muffled by his sleeve. “Excuse me. I think—it might be allergies.”

Blaine is horrified. After all, he just tried to flirt with a complete stranger by giving him a gift that made him sick. He opens his mouth to apologize, but then Kurt is chuckling again.

“I’ll just put this someplace where I can admire it from a distance.” He sets the orchid down gingerly on the counter. “I can go check with Dani if we have a vase.”

“I should go,” Blaine says suddenly, hoping that if he extracts himself quickly enough, Kurt will forget the bumbling stranger who came into his place of work to give him a flower.

“Oh, um… okay.” Kurt looks surprised, and maybe a little disappointed, which makes Blaine wince with regret but changing his mind would only seem weirder. “It was nice to meet you?”

“You, too,” Blaine replies with a nod, and he ducks out of the room and heads towards the front of the shop. Dani waves at him on his way out, and Blaine’s too embarrassed to even muster a proper goodbye.

***

It’s nearly the end of the day, and Emily’s manning the front of the shop while Blaine prepares arrangements in the back. Part of him is grateful for the chance to be alone, and the other part is busy berating him for what had to be the most awkward encounter of his life. A flower. To be fair, it isn’t the cheesiest romantic gesture he’s ever made, but he at least could have been smooth about it. Apparently, lack of practice has turned Blaine into an utter social disaster.

He hears the sound of the bell signaling a customer’s entrance, and listens to Emily’s greeting. Then he makes out another voice, familiar, and the distinct sound of his own name. Blaine freezes, and maybe squeezes the stem of the chrysanthemum he’s holding a little too tight. There are footsteps, and Emily’s face appears in the doorway.

“Blaine,” she calls out, singsong. She’s wearing the biggest smile he’s ever seen on her. “I’ve got someone here to see you!”

“Sure,” he says slowly, and there’s that nervous fluttering again. “Do you think you could finish this?” He sets the arrangement down and wipes his hands on his apron.

“No problem,” Emily replies breezily. “Go get ‘em, Tiger.”

Of course, it’s Kurt, leaning against the front counter on his elbows, his long legs crossed one in front of the other making his pants grip the lines of him even more noticeably. He visibly perks up when he sees Blaine, straightening his shoulders and grinning. “Hi there!”

“Hey.” Blaine approaches from behind the counter. Even leaning over, the man is still an inch or two taller than him, which doesn’t help the heat that’s spreading to his face. “I should apologize about that whole thing earlier. I don’t know what I was doing.”

“I actually came to say thank you,” Kurt cuts in. “The flower. It was cute.”

“You were allergic to it,” Blaine points out, though he feels a tiny surge of hope at the word  _cute._ It isn’t a word dripping with attraction, but it’s certainly better than the descriptors he’d had in mind for the gesture.

“True, but that doesn’t mean I didn’t like it.” Kurt glances up at the ceiling, lips pursed. Then his eyes shift back to Blaine, twinkling. “But if you’re really fixated on it, there  _are_ a couple things I’m  _not_  allergic to. Phone numbers, for instance. Dinner. I have  _no_ adverse reactions to dinner whatsoever. I love dinner.”

Blaine pauses, letting the pieces fall into place before he gets the picture that he’s being flirted with. And then his heart does a type of acrobatics it hasn’t done in years. Kurt. Is flirting with him. Asking him out.

And why isn’t he saying anything?

“I would love to buy you dinner.” Blaine grins, so big that it obscures his vision a little, and Kurt laughs at the way he’s finally caught on.

“How about I pick up the tab this time? I think it’s my turn. Does tonight work for you?” Kurt reaches into his pocket and pulls out a business card. “Do you have a pen?”

“Yeah.” Blaine glances down at the register and grabs one, handing it over. He’s still grinning, unable to keep even the smallest hint of cool. Because Kurt. Dinner. Tonight.

“Here’s my cell number,” Kurt says, sliding the pen and the card over. Blaine picks it up and studies it—the careful loops of Kurt’s handwriting, much more graceful than his own.

“I’ll give you a call.”

“Oh, I almost forgot,” Kurt adds, resting his chin in the palm of his hand. “I needed to place an order.”

Blaine is a little thrown off, but he reaches down to pull out a form. “Okay, um… what can I get for you?”

“A dozen red roses. See, I’ve got a date this this guy, and I get the feeling he’s really into flowers.”

Blaine smiles to himself, but he writes down the order anyhow. “Red roses? Isn’t that a little forward for the first date? Most people go with white or pink. Or daisies. Daisies are great for first dates.”

“I think I’ll stick with red.” Kurt smirks, resting a finger on his mouth.

Blaine shakes his head, biting his lip to keep a straight face. “Must be a lucky guy. I think we can get those delivered for you, though.”

“How much?” Kurt reaches for his wallet, but Blaine raises a hand to stop him.

“I can bill you later.”

“Sounds good.” Kurt steps back, dropping his hands to his sides. “So, I’ll see you soon, Blaine?”

“See you soon,” Blaine replies softly, with a small wave. He waits until Kurt is completely out of sight before he lets his grin return. Emily appears with an I-told-you-so expression, but Blaine can’t even be mad at her for eavesdropping.

He has a date to get ready for.

**Author's Note:**

> [Reblog on Tumblr?](http://wunderxfunk.tumblr.com/post/98783123594/fic-ink-kurt-blaine-pg) uwu #shamelessselfpromo
> 
> But seriously. Thank you for reading my words. <3


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